Page 33 of Someone Like You

PHIL

‘T ake care of yourself, old man.’

Ian’s last words to him had sounded like a broken caress.

A door closed gently and left ajar. No goodbye, no real closure.

It seemed appropriate.

Phil had almost retorted: ‘Take care of me yourself, you coward!’ , like he would have any other day. Ian would’ve snorted at it, but just to conceal his mirth, and then would’ve said something pungent but touching along the lines of ‘Believe me, I’m trying’, leaving Phil speechless.

Instead, Phil’s speechlessness had kicked in too early, and all he’d been able to do was grab Ian’s wrist and give him that stupid bracelet that had looked even more jarring on him than it had on Phil, as if that could in any way keep their bond alive.

Phil still had the helmet and the beanie, after all.

Ian had accepted it — a worthless string of plastic beads picked up from a filthy airport floor — without a word, without asking what it was, what it meant .

Not even Phil knew what it meant.

Even though it hadn’t brought any sunshine, that bracelet had marked the beginning of Phil’s new life in Scotland and he’d held on to it, waiting for the day he could feel the sunshine again.

Who could have imagined that sunshine would come in the form of a smart-mouthed Scottish hunk with kind blue eyes and the sexiest brain Phil had ever met?

“You’ll get over it.”

But, even as he’d said that, Ian had sounded like he knew it wasn’t going to happen.

There was no such thing as getting over someone who rightfully owned a piece of your soul.

Phil would just have to learn to live with the gaping hole Ian had left in him and pray the numbness would eat the pain like it had eaten everything else.

It was going to be hell, but he couldn’t find a single ounce of regret within himself, nor was he surprised by that fact.

Ian could remove himself from the picture, but he couldn’t take the memories, couldn’t erase the imprint he’d left behind.

Phil would be clinging to them for the rest of his life.

Head down, the broad back curved forward under the rain, Ian had walked away with Phil’s sunshine in his pocket, never looking back. Probably the most anticlimactic goodbye in heartbreak history.

Phil didn’t know how long he’d lingered outside the café, staring at the spot where Ian had disappeared from his sight, but by the time he dragged himself back inside his clothes were damp and his bones felt like ice.

Sandra shot him an alarmed look as he lurched past the counter, barely aware of his surroundings.

The noise, the movements, the sudden heat…

It was all relegated to the periphery of his perception, muffled and blurry, unimportant.

“Phil, is everything alright, dear?”

“Yeah,” he answered in a monotone voice he didn’t recognise. He gathered his stuff from the table where he’d left it, not really bothering to check if something was missing, shoved everything into the backpack and pulled his parka over his wet pullover. He was cold .

Picking up his phone last, he hesitated before putting it away.

Ian had had the final word, Phil could arrogate to himself the right to the final text.

You

I’m glad I got to see you in a kilt

He waited for the checkmarks to turn blue, to no avail. He took it as his cue to get going.

Heading outside, he slapped a twenty on the counter and made a very half-hearted attempt to smile. “Thank you, Sandy. Keep the change.”

Sandra said something he didn’t catch. He grabbed the bike from its usual corner and absently thanked the lady who kept the door open for him as he exited.

The helmet dangled from the handlebar. He slipped it off and held it between his hands, studying the scratches in the black paint for a second before slipping it into place, but then he remembered.

‘You want to go out there with damp hair? At your age?’

His hand rose to the lump in the pocket of the parka.

He pulled the beanie out and smoothed it out on his palm, his sight fogging as he sniffled.

In a way, he was glad Ian had made this decision for him.

He’d done what Phil would have never been strong enough to do: step back and draw a line. The honourable thing.

This was for the best, for all of them.

If Ian was delusional for believing Phil would get over him, Phil was equally delusional for thinking they could have kept seeing each other without any further damage. The remedy for sunburn couldn’t be more sun exposure.

He put on the beanie, the soft wool soaking up the raindrops in his hair, then secured the helmet on top of it, mounted the bike, and sped away.

He got home on autopilot, with no memory whatsoever of the journey. He left the bike at the entrance, discarded his helmet, beanie, and parka on the floor, shivering pathetically. He just wanted to go to bed and rot there in peace.

“Phil?” Abby poked her head into the entrance while he was pulling the hoodie and the t-shirt underneath over his head. He dropped those to the ground as well.

“Next purchase: raincoat,” he said, leaning against the wall to rip the socks off his frozen feet.

Abby came forward, watching him intently. She wasn’t buying any of it.

“Where’s your bracelet?”

Phil unfastened the belt, his hesitation imperceptible. “Gone.” The sound of the metal buckle hitting the floor was unbearable. Barefoot and shirtless, he collected his pile of wet clothes and tried to push past Abby, but a hand gently touched his arm.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

The sweet cautiousness in her voice hurt.

“I’m fine. Just fucking cold.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Phil yanked his arm away, but before he could sidle off Abby blocked him again, this time firmly.

“I need you to talk to me, Phil.”

“Not now, please.”

He writhed, but Abby snatched the wet clothes from his arms and tossed them in a corner, her dark eyes ablaze with determination.

“Yes, Phil, now . I’m done being accommodating. I’m worried sick about you, and you refuse to let me in! I’m sorry if expecting basic communication is asking too much, but you’re going to sit down and talk to me! Now !”

Phil had no choice but to nod submissively. She was right, after all. “Okay.” He was tired to the bone, but he couldn’t run from this confrontation forever. “Guess there’s no point in putting this off any longer. ”

The turn of phrase chipped away most of Abby’s boldness, replacing it with bemusement. Her expression softened as she placed a hand over Phil’s cheek, stroking it fondly.

“Let’s get you warmed up first.”

* * *

Abby drew him a hot bath and brought him clean clothes, commanding him not to get out until all the cold had drained out of him.

“I’ll be downstairs making tea.”

The hot water burned on Phil’s trembling body, but it did its job, gradually sucking the ice out of his bones and muscles. He wished there was a hot bath for how he felt inside, too.

The mirror was mercifully fogged when he finally stepped out of the tub, so he was spared the sorry spectacle he must be. He felt older and more tired than he ever had.

Downstairs, he followed the scent of cinnamon to the living room, where Abby was waiting for him with a whole pot of tea.

As soon as Phil touched the couch, he found himself with a steamy cup in his hands. He thanked Abby, blew on the tea a few times, then took a sip. Just how he liked it: plenty of sugar and a sprinkle of milk.

A delicate touch rubbed his back. “Feeling better?”

It nearly broke him. The tenderness, the doting attention despite the tense situation… Tears welled up in his eyes again, but he pushed them back, washing down the swelling in his throat with another sip of tea.

“Yeah,” he said when he felt like he could trust himself to speak.

Abby let him drink, observing him out of the corner of her eye with a hand resting on his knee, rubbing lightly. “Want me to fetch some biscuits?”

“No,” Phil all but laughed. “I had two slices of carrot cake and a gigantic hot chocolate. ”

The comment spread a smile on Abby’s face.

Phil tried not to roll his eyes. Having people rejoice at him eating was oddly moving.

It reminded him how low he’d fallen and how much progress he’d made since getting here, mostly thanks to the amazing woman sitting next to him.

He put his hand on top of hers, squeezing apologetically.

“I’ve been such a dick to you lately, haven’t I?”

“You have,” Abby agreed, but her thumb leniently stroked the side of Phil’s hand. “You get hurtful when you’re hurting.”

No one knew him like Abby did. No one had taken as much shit from him as her, and yet she was still here, still willing to put up with his bad moods and understand .

After all she’d done for him, Phil was really about to show his gratitude by confessing he’d fallen for a guy he’d only known for a couple of months.

“Look.” Abby pried the empty cup out of his hands to hold them both into her own. “If you’re having second thoughts about the engagement—”

“It’s not that.”

“I’m just saying, it’s okay to change your mind. It’s okay if you don’t want to be with me any more.”

The lump in Phil’s throat swelled again. “No, no, Abbs, listen to me…” He kissed her knuckles. “I love you . I’d die without you. I just don’t think sex is part of how I want to manifest this love.”

“That’s not what’s troubling you, though, is it? We’ve already established we’re both okay with that. Phil, please.” Abby kissed his knuckles in return. “Something’s off between us. If you don’t tell me what it is, we can’t fix it.”

Love flooded Phil’s chest. If there was anyone in the world who could fix this mess, that was Abby. She always knew what to do. She could shoulder any stress, any crisis. She’d kept them afloat all this time… She’d find a way to mend this fracture.

“It’s Ian,” he blurted before panic kicked in and tied his tongue. “I’m… attracted to him.”

Abby’s eyebrows raised. “As in sexually attracted? ”